Horses and Stones

He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed. -Mat 21:44

Do I want to be broken to pieces? Do I want to want to be broken to pieces?
I definitely do not want to be crushed.

Sweet joy-tears... soothing spirit in that broken state. The realization that you are not enough- that you alone are failure waiting to die—walking death.

But this stone is life—hope--- light—possibility—bliss—finding oneness in emptiness.

I want to be broken.

He who falls…. Falls like spirit falls. Falls on the floor broken—you realize you’re broken you no longer stand—prone— face down on the floor.

Exhaling—groans which only the Spirit can comprehend. The cold of the floor on my face—the warmth of the Presence…. Come New Spirit and break me to pieces—Come fall with me.
There is a scary quality to this passage. There are only two choices—no alternative.
Give in or else—fall or fail—

But falling is living.
Falling is breathing.
And You are my sweet breath of life.



I grew up on farm. We raised Angus cattle and had a few horses. I am fourteen years removed from that farm and rarely revisit those days of agrarian life in my mind.

When I was perhaps seven years old, my parents purchased a large, beautiful stallion named Casey. He was a gorgeous specimen, towering high with powerful muscles and a beautiful gallop. There was one problem with Casey. No one had ever broken him for riding. My parents took the gamble that a neighbor girl who had a gift for horsemanship could work with the animal. Casey was a difficult student. He showed no desire to be haltered or saddled let alone let anyone ride him. He resisted the girl day after day. He would not be tamed.

He roamed the pasture with the other horses, fast and free on his own. But still, every time the other horses were brought up to ride, Casey would pace the fence line watching the whole time. Though he thought being in control was the best, there was a longing in his heart to be a useful horse.

One day after many months, Casey submitted to the trainer and was broken to ride. He ended up becoming a wonderful horse to ride. He was gentle yet fast. There, at the end of my contemplation, I had an image of Casey pacing that fence line. In life we want to be in control of our own world. We don’t care what we miss out on. But our hearts are made with a hunger for taming. We too must be broken. Submitting our will breaks us as we collide with the Rock. But it is much better than the alternative of being crushed underneath it.